


threaten and adore

by jasperjorgen



Series: stand and watch it burn [3]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M, generic hatefucking, vague allusions to sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-29 15:35:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6382168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jasperjorgen/pseuds/jasperjorgen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's something they both despise and enjoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	threaten and adore

Ren is hapless and haphazard, aimless, unrefined. Volatile and corrosive, he weeps like a wound and rages like a hurricane. A mess of a human being, undeniably. The General agrees, and on many occasions would have gladly spit in his eye or applied the heel to the face. Yet, as he’s applying his lips to that very mess’s collarbone, it’s forgivable. Attraction or infatuation in general may be a weakness, but his is with power, strength, capability– evidenced by the hand with long fingers curling, using the Force, bending at his throat. The closest thing one could have to a godlike ability.

In the low light, Ren’s skin is almost luminous, pale and scarred like an airless moon. His eyes captivate, darkly and unsettlingly, like the starless fields of space. Such a chaotic presence is the price for his apparent beauty. The expense is a risk, but any subsequent consequences are entirely Hux’s responsibility; it was he who usually initiated their interactions anyway. This time, though, it had been Ren who stood in his proximity, caught him by the sleeve, and escorted Hux to his own quarters, door locked, lights dimmed, and a council meeting in half an hour. Sensing the urgency, Hux twists and detaches his mouth from Ren’s, skull striking the wall as he pulls back, heels coming to rest again on the floor. They’re still half-clothed and not moving fast enough, Hux decides, so he gives the Knight an order: “Fuck me.”

Under Ren’s searing stare he doesn’t wither, adding a command. “Now.”

Hands shaking slightly, Ren obliges, adhering to his instructions and not faltering when the General hisses or gasps. Hux is clinging onto his shoulders like the edge of a cliff while Ren’s fingernails prick his thighs. He twists fingers through oil-black hair and gives his head a sharp shove, dragging their lips back to contact. 

In a moment of reflexive lapse (Ren’s  _ impaling _ him, languidly, exhilaratingly) his teeth snap together, and coppery blood coats Ren’s bottom lip. He reciprocates on Hux’s jugular, bruising the skin over the racing artery before Hux yanks him off by the hair, snapping “No one can see that!”

“Too late, General,” comes the reply. 

Hux, contemptuous, wrenches Ren off and directs him away from the neck. He flips his wrist over and checks the time, and brings his hand up to Ren’s face, resting the tips of his fingers under his eyes, and Ren’s eyelashes flicker together at his touch. Calmly, he draws his hand back until his knuckles touch the wall, and slaps Ren’s same cheek, eliciting a “ _ Blast _ it, General, what was that for?!”

“I hate to interrupt my own tryst,” Hux sneers, “but you’re hardly as prodigious at this as you think.” He crosses his arms against Ren’s chest. “Eighteen minutes. Get me off or get out.”

Ren hardly appears lustful anymore, just affronted, but props up Hux against the wall and quickens his pace. Despite his own reluctance, he manages to make Hux come, stuttering and tense, with twelve minutes to spare. Hux pauses for a second, catching his breath while his wrists relax in Ren’s grip, then slides himself off and heads for his shower. Leaving the door open, he rinses himself off methodically while Ren is still standing there, facing the wall, no doubt jerking himself off, Hux presumes.

He showers for two minutes before he redresses, kicking aside the pants he’d dropped on the floor and sliding on another, identical pair from his storage. Slicking down his own hair, he returns to the mirror, and six minutes later Ren is stumbling in after him, disheveled and red. He regards him somewhat impetuously as Hux dusts concealing powder over his face, first on the dotted streak across his nose and cheeks and then on the incidental mark on his neck. It’s really quite obvious that he’s staring, but Hux chooses to disregard him and exits with a minute left, saying “I’ll inform Snoke of your delay,” over his shoulder and striding on as quickly as his boots will let him. 

It’s not until he’s already seated in his customary place that he registers  the absence of his typical greatcoat from his shoulders. Recalling its location, he reddens at the ears: it’s still on the floor of his quarters, lying where Ren had teased it off his arms obscenely, like lingerie. He wonders if Ren would do something with it before he notices that he shouldn’t care what Ren does. 


End file.
